Chapter Ten.
"Don't Let The Door Hit You…"
"Jerry Rudman's dead?"
As Bobby's familiarly gruff tone crackled across the phone line in clearly marked confusion, Dean sat back across the well-used little motel bed, listening to the springs creak underneath him and nodding although the older hunter was unable to see,
"Yep."
"You mean dead dead?"
"As opposed to?"
A long sigh met the sarcastic response, Bobby obviously taking his time with the news,
"When?"
"About six months ago according to Cal,"
"He say where?"
Dean snorted, rubbing a hand across his weary face.
"Actually I was going to ask you the same thing. I've tried looking up Rudman but it doesn't come up with anything. Know any names that Jerry used to go by?"
He'd spent the better part of the morning on Sam's computer, tapping away silently as his younger brother had used up what had to have been most of the motel's hot water reserves. Once he was done Sam had skipped out to see Cal off, an invitation to the sad parting of ways that Dean had dismissed with a steady glare. He figured he had a few minutes longer at least.
"Want to tell me the reason you haven't just asked Cal all this?" Bobby shot back across the line, a slightly smirk to his voice. Tell me what's really going on. Dean should have been expecting it, still he didn't hesitate in answering.
"I don't trust him Bobby,"
"Yeah," came the sigh of agreement, "That boy's a weird one all right," a long pause followed in which Dean could almost hear the wheels turning in the older hunter's head, mentally dredging his reserves for something that might help before finally coming good, "Try Gonzalez."
"Gonzalez?"
"It was his wife's maiden name," Bobby offered by way of explanation, the intricacies of his memory never failing to impress, "If that doesn't work he went by Crusoe sometimes too,"
"Thanks Bobby."
"Don't mention it," Another short pause, followed by a question that he seemingly already knew the answer to, "Sam there?"
"He's saying goodbye to Cal,"
"So I take it he doesn't know about this either?"
Dean snorted, his fingers already busy tapping at the keys. G-O-N-Z-A-L-E-Z. Enter.
"No, he's too busy hailing Cal as the best thing to happen to humanity since somebody decided to start slicing-up bread,"
"Sounds like you got yourself a case of the green-eyed monster," Bobby chuckled back softly, falling into their usual pattern of banter since the business end of the conversation seemed to have finished. Dean's gaze narrowed unseen at once,
"Don't make me hang up on you."
As a beam of bright light spilled into the room Dean looked up, finding Sam silhouetted in the doorway and wrestling his key from the rusty old lock. He looked surprised to find his brother on the cell, his gaze at once curious. Dean sat up on instinct, the shift in his voice providing a subtle warning across the phone line.
"Err…yeah, okay,"
The older hunter kept it brief,
"I'll see what I can dig up from here."
"Thanks Bobby."
He cancelled the call a split second later, dropping the cell casually to the bed and turning the laptop closer towards him as Sam finally pulled free his key and stepped fully into the room.
"Cal get off all right?" Dean asked, trying to sound nonchalant but already tensing in case the answer was 'no.' Sam paused momentarily, blinking at him in a mixture of suspicion and amusement,
"He just left," he offered eventually, crossing towards his own bed and sitting down heavily, "What did Bobby want?"
"Nothing," Dean responded a little too quickly, his attention focused on the screen as he scrolled through the results for 'Jerry Gonzalez'. Sam's gaze narrowed,
"Nothing?"
Sensing his brother's beady eyes on him Dean looked up, taking in the continued suspicion and shrugging casually,
"No Sam, nothing. He was just checking up on us, okay?"
"That why you're researching?"
Sometimes that boy was just too perceptive for his own good.
"Look Sam – ,"
"Whatever Dean, you don't want to tell me that's your business."
Damn it. That was Dean's line, the one he'd constantly used throughout their childhood to get his younger brother to spill his troubles or secrets. Having it flung back at him was not fun.
"How you feeling anyway?" he asked instead, changing tactics stealthily and gazing over the top of the screen across the room as Sam started to cough.
"I'm fine," he offered back, pausing slightly and suppressing an instinctive quiver as an image of the previous night's events caught up with him. A claustrophobic feeling of being hemmed in, surrounded by gallon upon gallon of black and unending water. Dean was still watching him, picking up on the vague shudder.
"You sure about that?"
Sam shook the memory away fiercely, wrestling back control of his own head and managing to sound more positive when he answered,
"Yeah. Cal saved me, remember?"
He was trying to convince himself as much as he was trying to convince his brother, but the snort that Dean let slip in the seconds that followed stalled the internal argument dead.
"Yeah," came the sarcastic rejoinder, "Cal."
Sam blinked. They were still on this? Really? Because it was starting to get old.
"Come on Dean, knock it off."
"What?"
"This," he hissed, his voice raising an octave and his frustration only growing as his brother's continued attention focused squarely on the screen in front of him, "I mean I get that you two have some big mysterious history you won't talk about, but what more does the guy have to do to prove himself? I mean, he saves you, he saves me – ,"
Again he was met by a snort, the derisive noise fast becoming rage-inducing. What the hell was it in aid of now?
"Yeah, about that," Dean cut in, his eyes lifting from the computer long enough to fix firmly onto Sam's, the calm and confident smirk only serving to increase the tension, "Bit of a coincidence there as well don't you think?"
The sentence stopped Sam in his tracks, both surprising and confusing him in one go.
"What?"
Dean was warming to his theory,
"I mean, first the weapons just up and move while I'm fighting that damn vetala – which was Cal's hunt by the way, and then that water hag somehow manages to pin you underwater and the only one of us that sees her is Cal, who just also happens to be the one that blows her away. I mean, did you see any evidence she'd been there Sam? Any scratch marks on the bank? Any signs of a fight? Because I sure as hell didn't!"
It seemed neither of them was much in the mood to conduct a balanced conversation about the matter.
"Cal?" Sam responded bluntly, his disbelief coming across as a breathless laugh, "You think Cal tried to kill me?" Judging from his even gaze, yes he did. Sam groaned audibly, "This whole thing is insane Dean…" abruptly he dropped his voice to a mutter, turning his head as he spoke, "Cal was right."
"What?" It was an addition that instantly had Dean's hackles up, his whole body positively bristling, "What was that?"
Instantly Sam knew he shouldn't have said anything. It was a cheap shot and he was better than cheap shots. His response was a dull mumble,
"Nothing,"
If he knew one thing about his brother though, it was that Dean never let go easy. He was like a dog over a chew toy, he'd just keep pulling and pulling until he got it, growing more ferocious with every tug. His counter was immediately sharp with mock-enthusiasm,
"Oh no Sammy, please. Tell me, what did the great Almighty Cal Rudman say to you?"
He wasn't letting go, nor was Sam in any mood to fight. He just wanted to curl into a ball and wish it all away. As if the month wasn't bad enough already, reminding him constantly of what he'd lost, suddenly he found himself fighting with – no, hurting the only family he had left. It was just some stupid throwaway comment the other hunter had made anyway, when Sam had been out front trying to again apologise for Dean's continued lack of courtesy. The response had been typically casual and off-hand, classic Cal.
"Don't worry about it Sammy. He's just, you know, pissed that we've got so much in common. I get it, really I do. No biggie."
"He just…" Sam broke off with a sigh, trying to find the right words and failing under Dean's continued glare, "He said you were…well, jealous,"
Dean snorted in response, more at the fact it was a claim that seemed to have been leveled at him a lot more than he'd thought in the past day but the noise coming across as more of a derisive dismissal,
"Of him?"
That would be the day. Sam was shaking his head,
"No. Of the fact we're quite like each other me and him," he shrugged again, seeming either embarrassed or disheartened. Actually seeming both, "I guess."
Dean blinked, not exactly following and seeing more in the sentence to object to than take offence at. His reply was vehement with denial.
"You are nothing like him Sam,"
"Come on Dean, the guy spent his whole life trying to prove himself to his father and now it's too late. Doesn't that sound a little like me?"
"No," okay, so maybe it did, but that didn't mean Dean had to accept it.
"Dean – ," But suddenly the conversation seemed to be over, Dean's gaze widening as his eyes fell across something on the screen, his lips turning up into a smirk. Sam's brow folded in confusion at the sudden change, watching as his older brother reached for a pen and paper, frantically jotting something down, "What? Dean?"
He was on his feet even before Sam had finished the sentence, grabbing his jacket and folding the scrap of paper into his pocket.
"Stay here Sam," he commanded quickly, not even bothering to look his way as he checked his pocket for his fake FBI badge.
"Where are you going?" Sam's voice sounded croaky as he responded, baffled and concerned as he watched the sudden development in vague alarm. He didn't get his answer, or at least not the one he wanted.
"To see if Cal really is so innocent," Dean offered instead, grabbing his keys from the table and offering a final word, flung over his shoulder as he stalked towards the door, "Get some rest Sam, you look like hell," the casualness of the tone told him not to worry but given that moments ago they'd been arguing, Sam couldn't help but continue to stare after him in puzzlement, "I'll be back later."
"Dean – ,"
The slamming door told him it was too late and sitting back onto the bed with sigh Sam listened to the Impala roar into life in the parking lot outside. Sometimes, he just did not understand his brother and what was with the whole thing about Cal? What exactly was Dean going to prove and why the hell couldn't he go along? Yeah, yeah, all right, maybe Dean had a point that he was still exhausted from the night before – he'd hardly slept thanks to the flashbacks and his older brother obviously knew it, but leaving him alone for the afternoon was hardly going to help. He knew what would though and with a groan he heaved himself upright and determined to head for the bar.
Hangover be damned, sometimes it was worth the pain.
For some reason these days I can't seem to go a whole story without inserting Bobby somewhere! Oh well, the more the merrier I guess!
As ever thanks for all the reviews, I'm enjoying seeing what people are thinking and giggling that my plot hasn't been completely rumbled as yet! (Evil laugh) There's plenty more to come though!